


Not the Worst Idea Ever

by blackgoliath



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: M/M, Sticky, yeah so this happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-09
Updated: 2013-12-09
Packaged: 2018-01-04 04:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1076390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackgoliath/pseuds/blackgoliath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magnus remembers a little bit more about their 'big night out' than Swerve expected, especially concerning a certain offer Swerve made.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Worst Idea Ever

**Author's Note:**

> this was a christmas gift for a friend that i actually had a lot of fun writing! also three guesses who gave magnus all the sex advice

“I’ve made a terrible mistake,” Ultra Magnus had moaned, voice muffled by the table he was resting his face against. Swerve, unsure of what he should do since everybody had left him here to deal with this all by himself, had carefully patted one of Magnus’ arms. 

“Yeah, this big night out is the worst idea since Megatron decided mining wasn’t his thing,” Swerve had quipped, then threw his servos up when Magnus banged his fists on the table and yelled “No! No no no!” 

“I…sense you disagree,” Swerve had said hastily. He’d glanced around for the others as Magnus flew into a rant, talking about Tyrest, complaining about how nobody liked him, and then, of course, insulting Swerve in that off-handed way he usually did. Swerve had been growing more uncomfortable by the second, and when Magnus said that everybody seemed to like Swerve, he’d wanted to sink into the floor. He must’ve been a good actor, if Mags really thought that.

“And you all  _do_  things together,” Magnus had went on, spilling energon as he swung his glass around while he spoke, “Dirty,  _inappropriate_  things. I know, I’ve heard you!” 

“I don’t,” Swerve had said under his breath, too quietly for Magnus to hear. 

“It’s unprofessional, but sometimes – sometimes I –“ Magnus paused then. “No, nevermind.” 

Swerve, unable to stop himself, asked, “What? Sometimes you what?” 

“Sometimes I want to partake in those acts,” Magnus had whispered, as though confessing to a heinous murder. Then he’d sighed. “But no one would want to do those things with me.” 

The poor guy’s drunk as a cyberskunk, Swerve had thought to himself. It was kind of sad, in a terrifying, I’m-still-waiting-for-him-to-cuff-me way. So Swerve, as he often did, had said the first thing that came to his mind. 

“If you ever want to do stuff like that,” he’d said with what he hoped was a charming smile, “I’ll always be happy to help you out! I know all  _sorts_  of tricks that I can show you.” 

“Hmph.” Magnus had been quiet for a klik, then said, “I just don’t understand it. I’m an alright person, you know! Once you get to know me, I’m alright!” He’d continued on like that for a while, Swerve doing his best to console the mech while still keeping a look out for his friends (he'd hoped they’d return soon, he couldn’t keep this up all night) until Magnus called him a shirker. 

“You’re a metallurgist,” Magnus had said, almost accusingly, “But you pretend to be a bartender.” 

“But that’s the plan! Me an’ Blurr an’ a bar!” Had his vocalizer hitched upward a notch in pitch? he’d wondered. Maybe it was just his imagination. “That’s been the plan  _forever_ …!” 

“Well, in that case, here’s to the plan.” Magnus had taken a huge swallow of his drink while Swerve watched on, faceplates tight with worry. 

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Mags…” 

Swerve had been right as Magnus’ helm hit the table with a large  _thunk_ ; the _Lost Light_ ’s second in command was out cold for the second time that night. Swerve had frowned and carefully taken the half-empty glass from Magnus’ servo. 

“Anyway, you’re wrong,” he’d said to Magnus’ unconscious body. “People _don’t_  like me – they just laugh at my jokes. There’s a difference.” 

That had been days ago, weeks maybe. Magnus, as far as Swerve understood it, didn’t remember anything, which was a relief. Besides the fact that he and the others had jumped on Magnus’ unconscious body in order to get him to transform back to ‘bot mode, Swerve didn’t want Magnus bringing up the fact that Swerve had offered to interface with him. It’d seemed like a good idea at the time, just something to say that might lift Magnus’ spirits, but every time he thought about it Swerve got a sinking feeling in his lower abdomen. It was the same feeling he got whenever he remembered how Magnus had reacted when they’d gotten back and Swerve called him “Mags” again. 

Even though he hadn’t liked becoming Ultra Magnus’ temporary “get him to have some fun” babysitter, he’d somewhat quietly hoped that something would come of it. Maybe they’d bond, be closer. Maybe somebody  _would_  like Swerve for more than just his jokes, somebody who kind of understood how it felt to be left out or disliked by everyone else. But, of course, that’d never happened, and everything went back to normal. 

For a little while, at least. 

Swerve retired early to his quarters that night; the bar had been pretty dead all day, so he’d decided to close and get a little extra recharge time in. He loved his bar, but sometimes it could be tiring running it all by himself with almost 200 mechs coming in and out all the time, so he liked to give himself a little break whenever possible. With Red Alert still in cold storage he had the room all to himself, and was just preparing to hop up on his berth for a good long recharge when there came a knock on the door. 

Wondering if Rewind or Tailgate had stopped by (they were the only two who ever did, albeit rarely) Swerve called, “Just a sec!” before crossing to the door and sliding it open. 

“Hey guys, what’s—“ He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed that instead of two minibots he had one very large and serious looking enforcer of the Tyrest accord outside his room.

“Oh, uh, Mags—I mean, Ultra Magnus! Uh, this is a surprise!” Worried he might get thrown into the brig again, Swerve left a servo hovering over the door controls. “What can I do for ya?” 

“Do you mind if I come in?” Magnus asked stiffly. Swerve swallowed and nodded, stepping aside. Once Magnus was past the threshold he said, “Please close the door. There are…private matters I wish to discuss with you,” and Swerve did as he was asked. 

“Private matters?” Swerve repeated, vocalizer cracking slightly. “Er, what kind of private matters? Is this about the bar?” 

“No, no. Nothing like that.” Magnus stared at the opposite wall and it dawned on Swerve that his visitor was extremely uncomfortable and even nervous. What was that all about? “Can I sit down?” 

“Uh, sure, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” Magnus carefully perched on the edge of Red Alert’s old berth; it was almost funny, this big mech sitting so cautiously on a berth that was a third too small for him. Swerve hid an anxious chuckle with a forced, staticy cough. 

“So, you were saying….?” 

“Do you remember the night we all went to that bar on Hedonia?” 

Swerve shuffled over to his own berth and hauled himself up onto it, legs swinging over the ground. “Yeah, why?” 

“When we came back, I told you I didn’t remember what happened,” Magnus went on. “Which wasn’t completely true. And since then I’ve started remembering a little bit more. Bits and pieces, yes, but it’s been coming back to me.” 

Swerve smiled blandly, even as his spark launched itself up into his neck cables. “Oh, really? That’s cool. I hope you remember what a great host I was!” 

“Mm.” Magnus pressed his lips together in a thin line. “One thing I remember very clearly is that you offered certain… _services_. If I ever wanted.” The words were sharp and short, as though Magnus was forcing them out of his vocalizer. Maybe he was – he still looked tense. Swerve, meanwhile, barely managed not to fall off his berth. 

“Haha, yeah, I remember that!” he said a little too cheerfully. “I was just messin’ around with you, you know that right, Mags—Magnus? It was just, ah, you know, just buddies joking around, haha—“ 

“Would you shut up?” Magnus snapped. Swerve’s mouth closed with a snap. “This is hard enough as it is.” Magnus inhaled deeply, clenching and unclenching his servos, then, slowly, painfully, asked, “Is that offer still on the table?” 

Swerve stared. “What?” 

“Don’t make me ask again.” 

“I—no, I just— _what_? Are you saying you wanna—you wanna ‘face? With  _me_?”

Magnus stood up. “I knew this was a terrible idea. Forget I was here, and if you tell  _anyone_ —“ 

“No, wait! Wait a second!” Swerve pushed himself off the berth. “Sorry, I’m, ha, I’m just surprised? Yeah. I’m surprised. Shocked, really. I’m  _stunned_ —“ 

“I get it.”

“Right.” Swerve reset his vocalizer and tried again. “I’d be happy to show you a thing or two.” He flashed a grin. Magnus gave a suffering groan. 

“Just try not to talk so much.” 

“Right,” Swerve repeated. “Alright. Yeah. So.” He cracked his knuckles. “Let’s get to it.” 

The two of them stood and stared at each other for over a klik, Swerve still with the grin on his face (which was growing more strained by the second) until Magnus finally said, “Are you  _sure_  you know what you’re doing?”

“Of course I do!” Swerve protested. “I’m just—I’m gettin’ in the  _mood_ , okay?” 

Magnus sighed and moved forward, slipping his servos beneath Swerve’s arms and lifting him up before carrying him over to Swerve’s berth. 

“Hey, what’re you—?!” 

“I knew you were bluffing,” Magnus interrupted. “At the bar. I may not be the best at reading other bots in social situations, but even I can tell a virgin when I see one.” 

“I’m not a virgin!” Swerve cried indignantly. 

“Mhm.” Magnus slipped a servo between Swerve’s legs and pressed his palm against Swerve’s interface panel, causing the minibot to suck in a breath in surprise. 

“Since when are you such a ‘facing expert?” Swerve asked a little grumpily, even as he shifted his legs further apart to accommodate for Magnus’ large servo. He pushed eagerly into the touch, the panel heating up beneath Magnus’ digits. 

“I’m not.” Magnus had his other servo pressed against the berth behind Swerve to support himself. “I’m using the tips a friend told me a long time ago.” 

“Yeah, sure, okay.” Swerve tilted his helm back and made a quiet, pleased sound. “Whatever you say.” 

A few more strokes from Magnus’ digits and Swerve’s interface panel was sliding back, revealing the warm, wet folds and calipers of his valve. Swerve moaned when Magnus pushed a digit inside, the appendage large enough that it filled Swerve almost as much as if it had been a real spike. 

“F-Frag,” Swerve said, grabbing at Magnus’ servo in an attempt to push the digit deeper. 

“Patience.” Magnus’ servo stayed right where it was, and when Swerve looked up he could’ve sworn Mags was smiling – or at least attempting it. The corners of Magnus’ lips were curling and twitching in a way that could have been a smile or may have been a reaction to indigestion. 

“So maybe I haven’t—haven’t d-done this in a while,” Swerve admitted even as he ground down against Magnus’ digit. “And maybe I don’t have as many—mmmmnn—tricks as I said I did.” 

“Really,” Magnus said dryly.

Swerve ignored him. “But I do have one,” he continued. Though he didn’t want to, Swerve pushed Magnus’ servo away, shivering a little at the empty feeling left behind. He slid off the berth and found himself at the perfect height for his little “trick” – his optics were basically on level with Ultra Magnus’ pelvic plating. 

“Now let’s get this bad boy open,” Swerve said, patting the interface panel hiding Magnus’ spike. 

“What did I say about speaking?” Magnus scowled but the panel still opened; Swerve had to step back to avoid getting poked in the visor when Magnus’ spike slid into the open. 

“ _Primus!_ ” Swerve took the still-pressurizing spike in his servo and found that his digits couldn’t touch no matter how hard he tried. It made his vocalizer malfunction, imagining this inside him, and he had to reset it a few times before he could speak again. 

“No wonder nobody wants to interface with you!” he said. “This thing could rip most bots in half!” Magnus gave a displeased grunt and Swerve hurriedly stroked the spike in his servo as an apology.

“Here’s where I’ll teach you something, so pay attention,” Swerve said casually, circling the tip of the spike with his thumb as he spoke. He was rewarded with a quiet sigh from Magnus. “Back when I last did this stuff – which I  _have_! – mechs would say this was my best feature.” He moved his servo a little faster, marveling again at the size of Magnus now that he was fully pressurized.

“My mouth, you see, is good at more than just talking.” Swerve leaned forward to lick the bead of fluid forming at the tip of Magnus’ spike, but before he could it was yanked away as Magnus stepped back. 

“Whoa, hey! What’s the matter?” 

“You’re not doing that,” Magnus said stiffly. “It’s proper to kiss your lover while interfacing, and you are  _not_  kissing me if you’ve had that in your mouth.” 

“Then we won’t kiss,” Swerve replied, leaning forward again, but Magnus held Swerve’s face back with a servo. 

“No,” Magnus repeated firmly, and Swerve sighed. 

“Fine, alright, alright. But you’re missing out~” 

“I doubt that.” 

Magnus reached down and lifted Swerve up onto the berth again, and before Swerve could try to persuade Magnus into receiving what he was sure was the best tool in his interface arsenal Magnus had covered Swerve’s mouth with his own and Swerve found that, somehow, against all odds, Magnus was _really_  good at kissing. When the bigger mech finally pulled away Swerve found himself clutching Magnus’ shoulders in an attempt to keep himself steady. 

“Alright,” he said. “Alright. Okay.” Swerve rested his forehead against Magnus’ as he reached down to guide that spike inside him, then thought better of it and pulled back. 

“Something wrong?” Magnus asked, and Swerve felt a pleased thrill when he noticed how thick Magnus’ voice sounded. 

“Nah, just switching positions.” Gently pushing Magnus back a step, Swerve hopped off the berth once again, quickly fiddled with the legs so that he could lower the berth a foot or two, and then leaned over the edge, legs spread and open valve facing Magnus. 

“Like this,” Swerve said. For a klik nothing happened and he worried he’d upset Magnus when he felt one of those deliciously large digits probe the entrance of his valve, brushing against the sensitive nodes around the edge and over the biggest near the front. Swerve gasped and jerked his hips back into Magnus’ servo. 

“Yeah, yeah, now just—get in me,” Swerve breathed. He felt Magnus lean over his back and was startled when Magnus’ lips ghosted carefully over an audial. 

“Are you sure? You’re so small, and, well…” 

“It’s fine.” Swerve wiggled back against Magnus’ digit and groaned. “C’mon, Mags, this is what you wanted.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Magnus scolded before removing his servo and pushing the tip of his spike inside Swerve. It was so big, so  _big_  and already Swerve was so full, but he wanted more, and he whined and pressed back against Magnus, trying to push him deeper. He scraped at the berth, trying to get some purchase in the smooth surface and finding none until he stretched and gripped the opposite edge. 

“More,” he gasped. “Gimme all of it, Mags, come on!” 

He could feel Magnus’ chassis against his back and he arched as Magnus drove deeper. Magnus let out soft little groans and Swerve thought he felt him trembling, just a little bit. Finally Magnus was fully sheathed in the tight heat of Swerve’s valve and Swerve felt like he might just  _burst_  but in a good way, in a _tremendous_  way and he rocked his hips back against Magnus, digits tightening on the edge of the berth. 

“Oh,” Magnus said quietly against Swerve’s audial. He wrapped one arm around Swerve’s abdomen, the other servo braced against the berth as he started to move, first in slow, deep thrusts, and then faster as he found his rhythm. Though Swerve had met movement for movement at first, now he found that the best he could do was lay there and take it while Magnus pounded into him. There was some pain – there was bound to be, with something that big in him – but it only added to the pleasure. He jerked and arched and cried out with each thrust, getting steadily louder, and though the tiny part of his processor that was still functioning waited for Magnus to yell at him to keep quiet the order never came. In fact, Magnus himself was getting pretty noisy, the roar from his fans drowning out whatever noise Swerve was making. Magnus had his head bowed, gasps and moans tumbling from his mouth as he moved, lips sporadically pressing sloppy kisses to Swerve’s helm. 

And just when Swerve thought he was going to have the best overload of his life Magnus beat him to it. The bigger mech stiffened suddenly, pushing as deep into Swerve as the minibot’s body would allow, the sound of his cooling fans almost deafening as he bit his lip and overloaded hard. 

Swerve felt something  _surge_  inside him and then he, too, was done for, digits almost denting the berth as he clung to it while the built up charge exploded through his system. He rode it out against the spike still pulsing in his valve until the last aftershock finally passed and he collapsed, exhausted, onto his berth, venting hard. He dimly registered something hot and wet trickling down his inner thighs. 

“Well,” he said finally, vocalizer crackling as if from weeks is disuse. “That was something.” 

Magnus hummed, bracing himself on his forearms as he hovered over Swerve’s back; if he’d just fell on top of the minibot like he’d had the impulse to do, he probably would’ve crushed Swerve. 

“It was satisfactory,” Magnus replied. 

“I’ll take that as code for ‘it was slaggin’ awesome, and possibly the best ‘face I’ve ever had’.” 

“I wouldn’t go  _that_  far.” Swerve felt Magnus pick himself up, felt Magnus’ spike slip out of him and then heard the audible click of an interface panel sliding shut. Swerve turned his helm just enough to see Mags and would’ve pouted if not for that possible-smile, possible-grimace the mech was wearing. 

“You liked it,” Swerve said with a tired glee. He rolled onto his back and weakly grinned up at Magnus. 

“You need a bath,” was Magnus’ response. 

“Hmm.” Swerve summoned the strength to sit up so he could look down at the spattered mess of fluid on his inner thighs. “Yeah, probably.” 

“Go clean yourself up, and I’ll do the same.” Magnus turned away, apparently about to leave as though they’d just concluded a particularly good business meeting. Swerve’s spark fell; was this going to end up being just like their big night out? 

“Hey, Mags, wait!” His valve panel closed as he unsteadily got to his feet and went after Magnus. “Is that it? You’re just gonna go?” 

Magnus looked down at him for a long klik, and Swerve had to fight the urge to squirm under that penetrating gaze. He was resigning himself to the continued reality of Magnus not giving him the time of day when, to his surprise, the bot leaned all the way down and pressed a tender kiss to Swerve’s helm. 

“I told you not to call me that,” Magnus said softly, and then he turned and walked out of Swerve’s quarters, leaving Swerve alone in the middle of the room, faceplates displaying a mixture of pleasure and confusion.

What reassured him was the realization that this time, things wouldn’t be returning to the status quo.


End file.
